


Puddle Jumping

by MojaMolitva



Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood, Inspired by Art, micro fiction, postcard fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 14:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14620278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MojaMolitva/pseuds/MojaMolitva





	Puddle Jumping

The morning light seeped in through the window and his eyes opened up as if he hadn’t just been sleeping. A big grin spread across his face as he jumped out of bed. He tugged on his clothes, getting tangled more than once in his hurry, and picked up his rain boots. This was the hard part. He slowly opened the door a crack and then, to avoid the squeaking hinge, he had to quickly open it before slowing it down again, stopping it from hitting the wall. He had perfected it to an art but the sense of accomplishment still rushed through him every time he pulled it off. His socked feet snuck past his parent’s room. With a brief look to make sure they were still fast asleep he slid down the stairs and out the door. The remains of last night’s thunder storm still hung in the air and that meant the field would be full of muddy puddles! He ran down the paths and over the bridge, making sure that at least one foot got into every small puddle along the way. When he finally reached the field he stopped to catch his breath. With his hands on his knees he looked out to the sun cutting through the morning mist, and the vast puddles cutting through the tall grasses. His smile grew bigger as he took in the sight. Without another moment to spare he began to run towards the first puddle and as his feet hit the water he felt the rush of joy he had been waiting for as mud and water splashed upon him. He wouldn’t stop there though; another puddle and another awaited him. He wouldn’t stop until he was covered from head to toe! And that’s when he heard his mother calling him. He ran back as fast as his feet would carry him and as he got closer he saw what awaited him. His mother stood in the doorway, her eyes chastising him but her smile clearly said that she wasn’t truly angry. He flashed his innocent smile before dashing off to clean up for breakfast. How great it was to be 8 years old!


End file.
